


Stay and Watch Me Fall

by rafaelbaseball



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Choking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Hurt Barba, Hurt/Comfort, It's For a Case, M/M, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Whipping, mentions of past childhood trauma, protective Sonny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-21 13:45:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17643947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rafaelbaseball/pseuds/rafaelbaseball
Summary: Rafael volunteers to act as bait to catch a perp. Sonny promises to be there to help him get through the aftermath.--"I felt guilty just taking the time to think about it because my hesitation could have given him time to find another victim. I don’t want him to have any more time, Sonny, do you?”“Of course not. Don’t play that card. Don’t make it sound like I’m happy to let someone else get hurt if it means keeping you safe.”“Is that not the truth?”





	Stay and Watch Me Fall

“This is a joke, right?”

“Carisi.”

“No, no, it has to be. I honestly can’t come up any other reason why you’d even suggest this.”

Sonny paces the short distance of Liv’s office, a finger pointed at nothing in particular. His mind is working overtime, not quite able to process what Liv had just suggested to him, but it’s gotten through to him enough that he’s starting to get royally pissed off.

“You seriously want to send him undercover?” Sonny’s laugh is incredulous, humorless, his eyes are wide with disbelief. “He’s not trained, you can’t just send him into a situation like that.”

“Believe it or not, Carisi, I’m aware of what I can and can’t do,” Liv says shortly. She purses her lips, her gaze flickering between Sonny and Amanda. Neither of them will look at her, each for their own reasons, and she takes a deep breath before choosing her next words. “He won’t be undercover. He’ll be there as himself, no backstory to maintain or prompts to remember, just one safe word that will tell us when he’s ready for us to intervene. We’ll have people posted inside and outside to make sure nothing happens to him, all of us and Fin included.” 

Dodds had tried to argue with her on that point, had tried to tell her Rafael is way too close to the squad for them to be actively involved with the operation other than overseeing the details, and he’s probably right but Liv had refused to budge. If Rafael is going to do this for them, they’re sure as hell going to see it all the way through.

“So he’s just bait. Yeah, that’s much better. Come on, Liv, how can you even consider letting him do this? He’s your friend, he’s my—”

Sonny stops himself. It’s not a secret, they’ve been open about their relationship for some time now, but it never feels quite right talking about it in terms of work. Even now, with his gut telling him this is a bad idea beyond the fact that he’s in love with Rafael, Sonny can barely bring himself to say what he wants to say while standing in the middle of his boss’s office. 

“Listen,” he continues, one palm held up, as if it should be enough to get Liv to see his side with just one gesture. “I know we want to nail this guy. Believe me, I do, too, but please. Please. Leave Rafael out of it.”

“He’s already agreed to do it,” Liv says. Sonny’s eyes flutter shut, his shoulders falling. She feels the weight of her guilt heavily in her stomach. “I don’t think it would be easy to convince him to change his mind.”

“You know he wouldn’t. Once he’s made up his mind about something…” Sonny trails off, sighing as he rubs at the bridge of his nose. “Whose idea was this?”

“Mine.” Amanda tries not to flinch at the way Sonny whips his head to look over at her. She lifts her chin up, a small act of defiance in the face of someone who has every right to be angry. “Barba fits the profile of every single one of Ortiz’s victims.”

“Oh, I’m well aware,” Sonny says. He takes a step closer to her, hands trembling at his sides. “So clearly the solution is to hand him over on a silver platter, right? Screw whatever happens to him, as long as we get Ortiz?”

“The fact Ortiz would want him is exactly why I’m sure this will work,” Amanda argues. “Put Barba right in Ortiz’s path and when Ortiz makes his move, we get him. Like Liv said, we will be there every step of the way, he’ll be wired. Barba will be safe, nothing’s going to happen to him.”

“Nothing he won’t recover from, you mean,” Sonny corrects, sneering when both Liv and Amanda remain silent. They all know what could happen, they all know there’s no chance of Rafael walking out of this situation completely unscathed. Liv and Amanda aren’t the ones who will have to be there when Ortiz inevitably features in Rafael’s nightmares, they won’t be the ones who will hold Rafael close and promise everything will be okay. “That’s what I thought. If Rafael gets hurt, it’s on you. It’s on both of you.”

“Okay, Carisi, that’s enough,” Liv says. “Take a walk.”

“I’m going to Rafael’s office,” Sonny says, spinning on his heels for the door. “I need to at least try to talk some sense into him.”

As soon as the door slams shut behind him, Liv collapses into her chair, throwing her glasses onto her desk. 

“We knew he’d be upset,” Amanda says softly. 

“I would be, too,” Liv admits. Her instinct had been to say no when Amanda had pitched the idea but Barba himself had been the one to convince her this could work. He’d stood exactly where Sonny hand, hands in his pockets with a too neutral expression on his face, and Liv had relented. It’s not ideal, though, not by a longshot, and Sonny’s words are already eating at her. 

_“If Rafael gets hurt, it’s on you. It’s on both of you.”_

He wouldn’t be wrong.

“It’s still our best shot,” Amanda says. Liv isn’t certain whether she truly believes that or if she’s trying to convince herself it’s the truth.

“I know.” Liv steeples her fingers, glancing at Amanda with dismayed understanding. “I don’t like it but I know. So does Barba. He wouldn’t have agreed to it if he didn’t think the idea had merit.”

Amanda grunts in agreement, gesturing toward the door. “Let’s just hope Barba can convince Carisi of that.”

\--

When Sonny bursts into Rafael’s office, it comes as absolutely no surprise. In fact, Rafael has been waiting all morning for this very conversation and Liv had texted him a warning as soon as Sonny had left the office. He’s already practiced what he’s going to say, he’s been practicing since the idea had been pitched to him.

But now that Sonny’s actually standing in front of him, looking angrier and more betrayed than he’d actually anticipated, Rafael’s confidence wavers.

“What are you thinking?” Sonny demands. He glances over his shoulder at Carmen, who lowers her eyes to her desk in an effort to pretend she hadn’t been listening. Nudging the door shut with his foot, Sonny turns back to Rafael expectantly. “Well? Why the hell are you doing this?”

“Don’t talk to me like that,” Rafael says calmly. He probably could have chosen something less condescending to say but his heart is pounding in his chest, all of what he’d practiced has somehow gone missing from his mind. He can stand up in front of a jury and deliver a compelling argument but Sonny Carisi somehow manages to make him tongue-tied, there’s something distinctly annoying about that. 

“Like what?” Sonny challenges, throwing his arms in the air. “Like I love you? Like I don’t want to even consider the possibility that you could end up getting hurt?”

“The likeliness of that is—”

“Very, very high, and you know it. Robbie Ortiz has raped at least four different men and none of them will press charges, he’s evaded arrest every single time.”

“You act like I’m not familiar with the case.”

“He’s dangerous,” Sonny continues, ignoring him, bending forward at the waist to grip the back of one of the chairs on the other side of Rafael’s desk. “We can’t arrest him just for flirting with you. When you say no and he doesn’t stop, that’s when we can pin a charge on him and hope to God it sticks. Damn it, Rafael, do you really think this is going to end well?”

Rafael swallows hard, resting his palms flat on his desk and fixing his eyes on them, his jaw working. “I trust you’ll get me out before it gets too bad.”

“Isn’t that the point I’m making? I don’t want you in a situation where it could get too bad. There’s so much that could go wrong. What if he finds out you’re wired? What if something prevents us from getting to you before he does too much damage? What if--”

“What if you took a second to consider what could go right instead?” Rafael’s lips press firmly into a thin line when Sonny scoffs dismissively at that. He watches Sonny walk halfway toward the other side of the room with a hand over his mouth then back. He’s restless, he’s worried, Rafael knows that, but it doesn’t change his willingness to go through with this. “If I can do something to get this guy off the street, I will. I didn’t just blindly agree to it, okay? Rollins came to me--”

“Jesus Christ.”

“ _Rollins came to me_ and I took a couple days to consider the risks. We took the idea to Liv and Dodds together.”

“And I was left out in the cold.” Sonny shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. “Glad to know my opinion means nothing to you.”

The petulance is getting old but Rafael tries to be patient. He understands why Sonny’s upset, he really does, but sometimes Sonny’s overprotectiveness of him gets a little more than frustrating. This is the way Sonny is, the way he’s always been, quick to defend those he loves about but quicker to forget that those same people are capable of taking care of themselves. Rafael had told Sonny once that he doesn’t have to fix everything, that sometimes situations need to work themselves out on their own, and Sonny had only countered that Rafael could afford to accept help every now and then. 

He supposes it ought to be funny now to remember the argument, if they can even call it that, had only started because Rafael had sprained an ankle trying to carry two trash bags full of laundry down to the washing machine on a day the elevators in their building had been broken.

This is nothing like that. This isn’t a good-natured domestic squabble that will end with Sonny struggling to carry him back up the stairs to their apartment. Sonny is right, Ortiz _is_ dangerous, and Rafael suspects he _will_ get hurt in some way or another but sometimes the ends are far more important than the means. If he walks away with a few bruises and Ortiz walks away in cuffs, Rafael’s life will not be the worse for it.

“Rollins knew you wouldn’t like it,” he says. “So did Liv, so did Dodds, so did I. But you know what, I felt guilty just taking the time to think about it because my hesitation could have given him time to find another victim. I don’t want him to have any more time, Sonny, do you?”

“Of course not. Don’t play that card. Don’t make it sound like I’m happy to let someone else get hurt if it means keeping you safe.”

“Is that not the truth?”

Sonny goes quiet for a moment, his eyes flickering with confusion, like maybe he’s realizing for the first time that it _is_ true. He’d trade Rafael’s safety for someone else’s in a heartbeat, including his own. It’s not a happy realization; in fact, he finds it extremely uncomfortable to even think about having to make a choice like that, but he sets it aside for the time being. “I just wish you would have talked to me about it. This isn’t something you should have to decide yourself, Raf. We’re supposed to be a team.”

Rafael supposes he can’t argue with that. He picks up his pen, just to have something to fidget with as he tries to come up with an answer then shrugs a shoulder. “You’re right,” he says, his tone sincere, contrite. “You’re right, we are a team, I shouldn’t have kept this from you. I’m sorry.”

Sonny narrows his eyes, taking a hesitant step closer to Rafael’s desk. “You sound like you mean it but…”

Rolling his eyes, Rafael pushes himself up from his chair, setting his hands on his hips. “You know I mean it. I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d cuff me to the bed to keep me from doing it.”

“I might still do that,” Sonny retorts, the corners of his lips twitching when Rafael quirks a brow. The levity doesn’t last long and he finds his resolve fading. “God, if this whole thing goes south—”

“Then we’ll deal with it,” Rafael says gently, coming around his desk now to take Sonny’s hands in his own. “I’m no stranger to being handled roughly, you know that.” When Sonny starts to protest, Rafael effectively shushes him with a shake of his head. “I’m not saying it’s the same. I’m just saying if he gets a few hits in, I can take it. It would be worth it just to see him get put away. Don’t you think?”

Sonny wraps an arm around Rafael’s waist, pulling him closer so he can press a soft, lingering kiss to his forehead. “It’s your choice,” he murmurs, brushing his lips over Rafael’s temple now. “If you really want to do this, I’m with you. I’ll be there for you when it’s done.”

“I know,” Rafael says, closing his eyes as Sonny’s lips travel downward, trailing kisses up his jaw. A shiver runs up his spine and Sonny holds him closer. “I’ll be okay. I promise.”

He _can’t_ promise that, nobody can. They both know it. Neither of them comments on it.

“I love you.”

Rafael smiles, resting a cheek on Sonny’s shoulder. He can’t deny his nerves but this is the right thing to do. He’s sure of it. “I love you, too.”

\--

Two nights later, Rafael finds himself tapping his heel against a leg of his bar chair. 

He hadn’t realized how excruciating the wait would be.

An hour and a half into sitting at the bar of The Bar on W 53rd, the one Robbie Ortiz habitually frequents on Thursday evenings, Rafael is ready to suggest they throw in the towel and try again another day. The SVU squad is parked in a van out on the ground level of the Baccarat’s garage and Rafael wears an earpiece that only goes one way so he has only had the luxury of being on the receiving end of texts rather than getting to hear Sonny’s voice. 

That would ease the stress of the wait, he thinks, having Sonny talk him down to a level of something resembling patience. He checks his phone and is pleased to see a new message: 

_I’m starving. If Ortiz doesn’t show, we’re going to Shake Shack._

Rafael wrinkles his nose, shaking his head even as he writes his reply. _Enjoy your overpriced bland burger, I’ll be getting Chinese delivered._ A pause, then Rafael adds: _And I don’t plan on sharing._

He can see Sonny composing his reply and smirks as he takes a sip of his scotch, nearly jumping out of his skin when a low voice suddenly murmurs into his ear.

“This seat taken?” The question is asked in Spanish and Rafael’s blood runs cold. A glance up tells him what he already knows: Ortiz has finally arrived.

He’s a handsome man, Rafael has to admit. Dark hair swept into an impressive coif, a strong brow and a sharp nose are his most immediately noticeable features but then comes a charming smile and stubble that looks almost intentional. Rafael can see how attention from a man like this, someone who makes a habit out of booking expensive hotel rooms and spending time in bars that certainly don’t qualify as even moderately priced, could make someone feel special.

His phone buzzes again. Sonny. _Remember, we’re not far. Just say the word and we’ll be there. You can do this._

Setting the phone face down on the bartop, Rafael smiles up at Ortiz, draping an arm over the back of his chair and gesturing to the seat beside him. “All yours,” he says. Ortiz’s smile grows when Rafael’s answer comes back to him in Spanish and he wastes no time sliding into the chair, lifting a hand for the bartender’s attention.

“My usual and another of whatever he’s having,” Ortiz says, switching to English. As the bartender gets to work, Ortiz returns his attention to Rafael, looking him up and down without any hint of subtlety whatsoever. It makes Rafael’s skin crawl. 

“You didn’t have to,” Rafael says. He finishes off the last of his existing scotch then finds a fresh glass already waiting for him. “That was very kind of you.”

“Truth be told, it was a selfish thing to do,” Ortiz says, tracing a finger over the rim of his own glass. “Didn’t want to risk you leaving when you were so close to being done. A little wicked of me, isn’t it?”

Rafael laughs, shifting so he can touch his glass to Ortiz’s. “Just a little, but I’ll drink to that. You work fast.”

“I’m usually not so clumsy in my approach,” Ortiz says. “But it’s been a long day and if you don’t mind me saying, you are far too gorgeous to let slip through my fingers.”

“I’d be lying if I said I minded,” Rafael says, locking eyes with Ortiz as he takes another sip of his drink. He catches Ortiz’s eyes traveling down to his neck so he can watch Rafael swallow. Rafael sets his glass back down, tilting his head back just slightly to bear his neck for Ortiz just a little more. His efforts don’t go unnoticed. 

“You know, it starts to get loud in here around this time of night,” Ortiz tells him, leaning in too close, like he’s in possession of some grand secret. 

As if on cue, a group of giggling women wearing sashes stumble into the bar, one of them heading immediately toward the restroom and the others fast approaching the chairs nearest to Rafael and Ortiz. Ortiz doesn’t show any interest in them, instead reaching to rest a hand on Rafael’s thigh. 

“Like I said, I’m usually better at this. I like to take my time. But if you’ll forgive me for being so forward, I do have the Prestige suite booked here for the night. If you’d like to join me, we can have a drink upstairs.” He flashes a toothy smile. Rafael wants to knock every last veneer out of that mouth. “It would give us a chance to get to know each other a little better. What do you say?”

Rafael narrows his eyes, taking it as a small victory when Ortiz squirms a little in his seat while he watches Rafael finish off his scotch. “Can I at least get your name before I let you sweep me off my feet?”

“You’ve got me so mixed up I forgot to give it,” Ortiz answers. His laugh would be infectious under any other circumstances. “I’m Robbie. Robbie Ortiz.”

Got him. 

—

In the parking garage of the Baccarat, sandwiched between Liv and Amanda in an unmarked black van, Sonny’s fists clench in his lap as Ortiz makes his move. 

“Are you okay hearing all this?”

Amanda’s voice irks him but Sonny doesn’t look at her, glaring instead at the tinted rear window of the van. “You know, I’m actually not, but I wasn’t given much of a choice.”

He hears Amanda sigh, then Liv, it’s frustration in surround sound but when Sonny glances over at Fin with hope for validation, he gets nothing but a raised eyebrow in return. 

_“I’m thinking some champagne is in order. No better way to celebrate meeting you.”_

Oh, for Christ’s sake. Ortiz relies heavily on charming one-liners that would never actually work on Rafael. It’d taken Sonny over a year of hard work to make Rafael understand his feelings, Ortiz is out of his mind if he thinks Rafael would fall for him so easily. Granted, that’s exactly what they’re hoping will happen but Sonny can’t help but resent every last second Rafael has to spend with this creep. 

“He’ll be okay.” Fin’s commanding voice cuts through the awkward silence that’d fallen over the squad. Sonny looks up at him with a tight but grateful smile. “They’ll be ready as soon as Barba says the word, so will we.”

Sonny tries to believe that. He’d feel a lot better about it if he were the one stationed up in a room just a few doors down from Ortiz’s suite rather than a few NYPD officers Rafael has never met. Liv wouldn’t allow it, not of any of them, and Sonny supposes he understands why, whether he likes it or not. They’re all too close to this, even Fin, even Amanda. Sonny, most of all, would be too likely to react before Rafael was ready to put an end to the whole thing. He can admit to that. Hell, the mere thought of Ortiz touching his boyfriend fills him with blind rage, he can only imagine how much damage he could do if given the chance to get to Ortiz first.

He forces himself to unclench his fists, flexing his fingers and watching the white of his knuckles fade away. 

“Carisi, maybe you should—”

“I’m fine, Liv.” Sonny’s tone leaves no room for argument and Liv doesn’t push the matter.

Silence reigns again while they wait.

\--

By the time Ortiz has ordered the champagne—a bottle of Dom, which Rafael finds sufficiently ironic—Rafael still hasn’t removed his sport coat and is awkwardly perched on the arm of the luxury sofa in Ortiz’s suite. 

Ortiz turns toward him, unbuttoning his cuff with his hand held in such a way to show off the ornate, diamond-encrusted ring on his pinky finger. Everything about this man screams manufactured, from the ring to his Gucci-made suit to this very room, all of it is to designed to both impress and intimidate. 

Rafael wonders how Ortiz’s victims had felt in this moment. Had they been eager at first, happy to be showered with attention and Ortiz’s affections; or had they realized as soon as they’d walked through the door what a mistake it might be?

“Nervous?”

Ortiz asks the question in Spanish, startling Rafael out of his thoughts. 

“What?” 

“You look so tense now. Relax, take your jacket off, I won’t bite. Not unless you want me to.” Ortiz quirks a brow, winking. Rafael has to duck his head just to avoid the urge to wrinkle his nose. 

“I guess I’m a little nervous.” It’s not altogether untrue. The confession seems to have pleased Ortiz, it draws him closer as he slips a hand into his pocket. Rafael thinks this is the first time this evening Ortiz has actually looked the part of a predator. “I don’t usually do this kind of thing.”

It’s what all Ortiz’s victims had said. It’s what he likes to hear.

_“It’s not like me but he was so charming. He made me feel like I was the only person in the room who mattered.”_

“You have nothing to worry about,” Ortiz says. “You’re safe up here, I promise.” He’s close enough now to reach out to tug at Rafael’s jacket collar. Rafael can smell the pleasant scent of cinnamon and citrus, not too overpowering but in fact, just right. It threatens to send a wave of nausea through him. “Anyone ever tell you how sexy you are, hmm?”

Rafael laughs, feigning appreciation even as his face flushes. The back of Ortiz’s knuckles brush gently over his cheek and Rafael plants his feet more firmly to the ground to keep from recoiling from the touch. “It’s not something I hear often, no,” he says. It’s a lie. Sonny had said the very same thing a few nights ago, just before they’d made love after two weeks of conflicting schedules. 

He knows Sonny can understand most of what they’re saying now, even in Spanish, and a part of him worries his boyfriend will take this personally. It’s an absurd concern, his rational mind is aware of that, but the closer Ortiz gets, the less that rational mind seems to properly function. Long, lean fingers thread through his hair now, tugging just slightly before both Ortiz’s hands fall on his shoulders. 

“Make yourself comfortable,” Ortiz tells him, massaging Rafael’s shoulders. It feels good, Rafael can’t help but let out a soft sigh as some of the tension is forcibly removed from his body, and he hates himself for it. “The champagne will be here any minute.”

A knock at the door prompts Ortiz to drops his hands back to his sides and it comes as an enormous relief to Rafael. 

“What did I tell you?” 

Rafael musters a smile then lets it fade back into a frown when Ortiz heads for the door. He swallows hard, clearing his throat as he wipes his brow to find a sheen of perspiration. 

_“Get a grip on yourself.”_

His father’s voice in his head is unexpected here but not unusual. Rafael doesn’t try to bury it, if only because the voice is right. If he wants to succeed tonight, for the squad and for the victims, he has to be willing to handle more than just Ortiz’s hands rubbing his shoulders. Sonny isn’t far, he reminds himself, Sonny is listening. Sonny never fails him. 

He shrugs his jacket off, carefully folding it and draping it over the back of the sofa, then offers his best flirty smirk as he loosens his tie and watches Ortiz head back with two champagne flutes in one hand and a bottle in the other. 

“That’s better,” Ortiz says, eyeing Rafael appreciatively. He sets the glasses and bottle down on the table at their feet, lowering himself onto the couch and catching Rafael’s hand to pull him along. He inches close enough so their knees touch, studying the uncertainty Rafael knows is showing in his expression, even against his will. “You’re still nervous. How can I help with that?”

There’s a level of suggestiveness in Ortiz’s tone and Rafael knows he should take advantage of that, of Ortiz’s apparent yearning to move past the getting to know each other and skip straight to _getting to know each other_. He should, but he doesn’t, he can’t, not yet. Preparing for this, for what to do and say, had been useless because now that he’s here, Rafael has no idea what to do next.

“Maybe some of that champagne will get me to stop thinking so much,” Rafael says, trying to keep his voice light. 

The corner of one of Ortiz’s eyes twitches. “What is it you’re thinking about?” 

“You. You and how I can’t believe someone like you would take an interest in someone like me.” The answer has the intended effect. Ortiz lifts his chin, satisfied, then reaches for the champagne bottle. 

“What, you don’t believe me when I tell you you’re gorgeous and sexy?” Ortiz teases. “I’m lots of things but I’m not a liar. The second I saw you in the bar, I knew I had to make you mine.”

The cork pops and for a split second, Rafael’s imagination flashes with an image of Ortiz with a bullet hole between his eyes, dead weight on Rafael’s back, and Sonny holding up his gun in the doorway of the bedroom. 

“To us.”

Rafael takes the flute Ortiz has extended out to him, lifting it up then toward his lips. “To us.”

\--

“I hope this son of a bitch rots.”

It’s been over an hour now that they’ve been sitting in this van, listening to Ortiz working toward his endgame with Rafael. Sonny’s pretty sure this must be what torture is like, it physically pains him to imagine how Ortiz must be looking at Rafael, how he might be touching him. 

He’s always had a little bit of a jealous streak, even when it’s completely unwarranted like it is with Rafael. There has never been reason to worry, Rafael has never done anything to make Sonny think twice, and he’s embarrassed to be feeling this way now but he can’t help himself. Ortiz is human garbage and even if only for a little while, is allowed to believe Rafael Barba is under his spell.

_“I knew I had to make you mine.”_

Possession. That’s what Rafael is to Ortiz, what all the victims had been to Ortiz, objects to possess, to control. He gets off on feeling superior, he loves the power he holds over someone begging him to stop. Sonny’s lip involuntarily curls and he can sense Fin watching him but keeps his eyes fixed on the phone he’s holding in his hands.

He can’t send a text, as desperately as he wants to, the chance of Ortiz seeing it is much too risky. Sonny only wishes he’d sent a last _I love you_ before handing his boyfriend over to a rapist.

“It’s okay to take a break,” Fin finally says, exchanging a glance over Sonny’s head with Olivia. “You don’t have to listen to all of it, we can tell you when something’s going down.”

That would probably be for the best. This all feels so perversely twisted, Sonny almost feels like he’s having an out-of-body experience every time Rafael says something that reminds him of what their own flirtations have been like. 

“I know,” he says, heaving a sigh. “I know, I just--”

“Wait!” Amanda straightens, cupping her ear. “Shit, wait. Something’s happening.”

\--

Ortiz has had three glasses of champagne to the one Rafael is still nursing by the time he makes his first real move.

They’d been talking about Broadway, a subject Rafael had at least felt comfortable discussing naturally. He’d lied about seeing _Hamilton_ , had bemoaned the ticket prices were just too high even though he’d seen it for a fourth time last month with a skeptical Sonny in tow, and Ortiz had wasted no time in making extravagant promises.

“I could get you front row seats,” he’d said, beaming as if he’d just promised entry to the gates of heaven. For some, Rafael supposes, that wouldn’t be far from accurate. 

“No!” Rafael had gasped, setting his sweating glass down then clutching at his chest. “I’d do just about anything for that.”

Ortiz had taken it as an invitation. His lips had come crashing against Rafael’s, champagne spilling over the rim of his glass. Rafael had yelped, trying to pull away, but Ortiz’s free hand had kept his head in place until Ortiz had finally grown irritated enough that there had been no reciprocation of the kiss.

Now, Rafael holds his hands up as if in surrender, knowing damn well he’d screwed up but hoping for a chance to recover.

“Not _anything_ , then,” Ortiz says, scoffing as he tosses his head back to swallow the last remnants of his champagne. He slams the flute down on the marble tabletop hard enough it makes Rafael jump, though it doesn’t shatter like Rafael had feared it might. 

“I’m sorry,” Rafael says, lowering his hands, rubbing them nervously over his knees. “You just surprised me, that’s all, I didn’t expect that.”

Ortiz is silent for a moment, staring at seemingly nothing before abruptly rising to his feet. “Get up,” he says, his voice now cold. It’s a far cry from the spirited tone of just a moment ago and Rafael feels a spike of fear run through him. “ _Get up_.”

He complies, standing so he’s toe-to-toe with Ortiz, disgusted by the realization that he’s merely waiting for his next instruction.

“Get on your knees.” 

Shit.

“I-- What?”

Ortiz’s hand comes to rest on his belt buckle, his thumb brushing against the edges of the metal. “I said get on your knees.”

He’s like a completely different person. Rafael isn’t even sure when the switch had flipped.

“I thought we were getting to know each other,” he says weakly, taking a hesitant step back.

Chuckling, Ortiz’s hand leaves the belt and rubs over his stubble. “Oh, you want to play games? I can play.” His smirk fades into a snarl and Rafael barely has time to react at all before the back of Ortiz’s hand comes flying at his face. 

He stumbles back from the force of the hit with a startled cry, already feeling blood dripping from a cut on his cheek caused by the ring on Ortiz’s finger, and Rafael struggles to catch his breath as he does his best to figure out what the hell his next move should be. This had escalated far more quickly than he’d anticipated, than he expects any of the squad had anticipated, and his stomach churns at the thought of Sonny raising hell in the van parked in the hotel garage. He has a choice: tap out or keep going. 

The more they have on Ortiz tonight, the stronger the case will be, they’re not quite there yet. Rafael wishes he could call it an easier decision. 

Though trembling, he turns to face Ortiz, placating hands held out in front of him once more. “I’m not playing games,” Rafael says, trying to keep his voice steady. Ortiz eyes him skeptically, rolls his neck and cracks his knuckles. It sends a chill down Rafael’s spine. “It’s like I told you, I don’t do this often, okay? I just think we should take it slow.”

“Slow,” Ortiz echoes. He chuckles again, a low, dangerous laugh that seems to echo off the walls. “You think you get to call the shots up here? I buy your drinks, I invite you to my room, and you think you’re in control? Baby, that’s not how it works. When I fuck you, it won’t be slow. When I fuck you, I’m going to want to hear you scream.”

Rafael’s lips part but no sound escapes them. There’s a sinking feeling growing deeper by the second in his stomach, a sense of fear that tightens its grasp around his throat and makes him feel like he might choke at any moment. They don’t have nearly enough, he knows that, except for maybe a weak argument for assault against an ADA but Christ, if he stays in this room any longer, Rafael thinks there’s a very real possibility he might not make it out whole. 

“Okay, I— I think we came in here with very different intentions,” Rafael says, taking small, careful steps backwards toward the door. Ortiz follows him with his eyes, watches like a wild animal stalking its prey. It’s a look Rafael has seen before but never fixed on him.

“You try to walk out that door and you’ll regret it.”

Rafael freezes. He can’t find the will to move, even as Ortiz closes the gap between them, one hand expertly undoing his belt buckle as he steps closer, closer. 

“On your knees,” Ortiz commands again. “On the bed. You can go there yourself or I can make you go, you want to tell me what your _intention_ is?”

Shaking his head, Rafael moves as quickly as his feet will take him, rushing to the bedroom and climbing onto the bed with his palms and knees planted firmly on the mattress. The tip of his nose tingles as his eyes water with hot, unshed tears, but he can’t cry. He’s afraid to cry, afraid of what Ortiz might do if he sees tears dripping onto the duvet, but he doesn’t have much more time to think on it before he hears Ortiz from behind him.

“You really are all the same,” Ortiz says, his footsteps muffled against the bedroom carpet. “Happy to take from me, never quite willing to give back. It’s selfish, you know that? You’re selfish.”

Rafael hears the faint clatter of something against the carpet followed by metal against metal and it takes him a moment to place it before panic flares through him.

The belt.

“Please--”

“Keep your mouth shut. I want to enjoy this.”

Ortiz snaps the belt then brings it down hard over Rafael’s back, his cold laugh drowned out by Rafael’s scream. Rafael buries his face in the sheets, letting out a shuddering gasp as he tries to work through the pain, his hands gripping tight over the corners of a pillow. His back burns where the belt had landed, he can imagine the welt it’ll leave already, but he can’t even gather his thoughts long enough to beg for Ortiz to stop before he hears another _crack_ of the belt. 

His mind is spinning so wildly it takes a few seconds to realize the crack had sounded against his back a second time. Rafael doesn’t hold back his wails and the tears he’d been holding back spill down his cheeks as he tries to drag himself toward the head of the bed, tries to do anything he can to create space between himself and Ortiz. 

_Just a little longer, just a little longer._

“Stop,” he spits out, “please stop, I don’t want this.” It won’t be enough, he knows, but he’d needed to say it. 

_I don’t consent, I don’t consent, I don’t consent._

“Bullshit, you don’t want this. I could tell as soon as I sat down next to you, you like it rough.”

Rafael coughs, gagging on the bile rising in his throat. He hears his father’s voice, he can see himself choosing a belt from his father’s closet at nine years old. _“You pick. I’ll wait.”_ His eyes flutter shut and he’s walking down the hall to the living room where his father waits with a beer in hand and _Wheel of Fortune_ plays on television at full volume. The neighbors had commented on it once: “We know what’s going on over there,” Mrs. Martinez had told him with a conspiratorial wink. “We hear _Wheel_ on all the time. See, we’re a _Jeopardy_ family.”

She’d had no clue, she’d had no fucking clue. 

He feels Ortiz’s hand reach for his ass, squeezing so hard Rafael can feel the dig of fingernails through his pants, then traveling upward to tug at one of Rafael’s belt loops before letting go. There’s the sound of a zipper, of clothing falling, probably now pooled at Ortiz’s feet. Rafael scrambles to remember how to work his tongue, how to speak, he needs to speak if he wants to get out of this because if Ortiz gets any further, Rafael is certain he won’t. 

“ _Sonny_.” Is that really his voice? It sounds distant to his own ears, gravelly, like it couldn’t possibly have come out of his mouth. He glances over his shoulder to find Ortiz in his briefs, erection fully visible through the thin, black fabric. 

“What did you say?” 

Rafael clears his throat, lifting his chin. “Sonny,” he says again, clearly, firmly. “My boyfriend. I won’t be able to hide this from him, he’ll know, he’ll—”

“He’ll _what_?” Ortiz sneers, shaking his head even as he presses his erection against Rafael’s ass. It takes everything in Rafael’s power not to vomit all over the mattress. “Look at you. You think he’d want you looking like that? You think I _care_ you’ve got a boyfriend?”

Rafael doesn’t answer, this is what he needs. Keep Ortiz talking, distracted, help is on the way. 

“I don’t. In fact, I’m going to make sure when you go home to him tonight, you’ll still feel me inside you.”

There’s a brief moment of relief, of the weight against his back lifting, freeing him, and Rafael is half-convinced Sonny had already made it from the parking lot to the room but that can’t be. That can’t be because he hadn’t heard the door and there aren’t any officers swarming the place and as he starts to look over his shoulder to look for Ortiz, Rafael feels a sudden pressure against his windpipe.

_”We’re a_ Jeopardy _family.”_

_“You pick. I’ll wait.”_

_“Where was the_ buckle _?”_

Rafael lets out a ragged cry, only to find it barely escapes past the leather that’s been wrapped around his throat. He grasps for the constraint, desperately trying to tug at it, to make space so he can _breathe_ , goddamn it, _breathe_ , but Ortiz pulls back harder with a snarl and Rafael starts to see static cloud his vision.

“Is this how you like it?”

_”Show me how you like it.”_

“Is this how _Sonny_ gives it to you?”

Rafael’s elbows collapse from beneath him but Ortiz yanks, pulling Rafael upright on his knees as the fingers of Ortiz’s free hand trails down the length of his back. 

“No, I bet he doesn’t,” Ortiz continues, fingertips dipping into the front of Rafael’s pants. “Nothing’s going to compare to this once I’m done with you.”

Then Rafael hears it: the crash of the door meeting the wall followed by the immediate release of Ortiz’s grip on the belt. It sends Rafael face forward onto the mattress and he can’t hear anything else, not over the sound of his coughing. His throat is raw, inside and out, he’s gasping for air that is readily available to him again but won’t seem to come; at least, it won’t stay, no matter how hard he tries. He burrows his face between the pillows on the bed, trying to mask his coughs as he curls his knees to his chest, his hands shakily gripping his ankles.

A hand falls on his shoulder and he violently startles, a hoarse yelp escaping him as he scrambles upright so he can turn to press his back against the headboard on the other side of the bed, as far away from the intruding hand as he can possibly get right now.

The offender holds up both his hands, looking like a deer caught in headlights with a dropped jaw and surprised, wide eyes. “I’m sorry! Mr. Barba, I’m Officer Reilly, I’m here to help you.” He pauses, lowering his hands, though his palms turn outward at his sides helplessly. “How can I help you?”

It’s a good question. Rafael doesn’t know the answer; but in the next split second, over Reilly’s shoulder, Rafael finds it.

\--

Sonny had fled from the van the second he’d heard the first slap of the belt come down on Rafael’s back. Nobody had called for him to stop, the rest of the squad had been frozen in horrified silence, but Sonny hadn’t bothered to wait for them to catch up.

This is exactly what he’d feared, this is why he’d tried so hard to veto this mission, Rafael has no business being involved in something like this and now--

Now.

Now, Sonny locks eyes with him from the doorway of the bedroom, panting from the run between the garage and the elevators, the elevators to the end of the hall.

He takes it all in: the cut and swelling on Rafael’s cheek, the bright red ring around his neck that’s already showing signs of bruising, the lingering uncertainty and fear in his eyes, the untucked shirt, the shivering. 

“Where’s that bus?” he shouts over his shoulder. He catches Liv’s gaze as she bursts into through the doors, his eyes hardening when she glances past him at Rafael and her composure briefly shatters. 

“On its way,” Fin answers, stepping into Sonny’s line of sight. His voice seems to break Liv out of the trance she’d fallen into and she opens her mouth to speak but turns away instead to attend to a struggling and shouting Ortiz. 

It’s enough to prompt Sonny to return his attention to what’s important and he steps into the bedroom, relieving Reilly of his duties and sending him back out to assist with apprehending Ortiz. He’s cautious as he steps toward Rafael, whose eyes have gone scarily vacant, then lowers himself onto the bed beside his boyfriend’s trembling body. 

“Raf? Rafael, I’m right here. You’re safe, I promise you’re safe.”

Rafael’s face twitches with recognition, though there’s a distant look in his eyes, like he’s working his way through a haze; but a low whimper escapes him and then his hands are pawing at Sonny’s chest, desperate for the contact. Sonny pulls him into an embrace, wrapping his arms as tightly around Rafael as he can as he murmurs quiet words of comfort in his boyfriend’s ear. 

“It’s done?” Rafael asks. His voice is rough, low. Sonny hadn’t heard anything past the first strike on the belt but the evidence of what else Ortiz must have done to Rafael is all too visible. “You got him?”

“Yeah, we did, we got him because of you. You did so well, sweetheart, we’re going to put him away for a long time because of _you_.”

“Can you take me home? Please take me home.”

“You need to get checked out first.” When Rafael starts to protest, Sonny presses a finger against his lips to stop him. “That one’s not up for debate, I’m sorry. If the paramedics clear you, we don’t have to go to the hospital but we’re not leaving until they take a look at you.”

They should go. Rafael’s injuries may not be life-threatening or even exceptionally severe but at the very least, Sonny would feel much better if a doctor confirmed there wouldn’t be any permanent damage to Rafael’s throat. 

Rafael mutters something Sonny can’t make out but doesn’t ask for it to be repeated, not when Rafael’s hiding his face in the crook of Sonny’s neck. It makes Sonny’s chest tighten, he’s not used to Rafael so openly showing this much vulnerability, at least not in a public setting. “Hey, did he hurt you anywhere else?” he asks, smoothing down Rafael’s hair. 

Rafael’s voice comes muffled. “What?”

“I see your neck, your cheek. I heard…” The knot that’s been forming in Sonny’s stomach twists. He’d heard, they’d all heard, and Rafael knows it. “I just want to make sure the EMTs know what they need to know.”

“Nothing else.”

“Rafael.”

Rafael lifts his head, looking annoyed. It somehow comes as a relief. “Nothing else,” he insists. “They came in before he could— I’m just— I think I’m a little—” His breathing grows shallower and Sonny squeezes his arm to encourage him to stop talking. 

“You’re going into shock,” Sonny finishes for him. “Bus should be here any minute.”

He hears footsteps approaching from behind him and glances over his shoulder to find Liv standing over them. Sonny wants to be angry, wants to be livid, and he even tries to find the energy to snap against his better judgment but all he feels is drained. What’s done is done. Rafael is alive—not unscathed but alive—and for the rest of the evening, that’s the only thing Sonny is going to care about. 

”I think he’ll be okay,” Sonny tells her. “Just need the medics to take a look at him once they’re here.”

“Good,” she says. Her eyes linger on Rafael, who doesn’t look back at her, and Sonny knows it isn’t personal but Liv still looks like she’s taking it hard. 

“I got him, Liv. Focus on Ortiz.” The unspoken implication between them is Sonny has absolutely no intention leaving Rafael’s side. He doesn’t anticipate any resistance on that. “Rafael can give a statement tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Liv concedes. It’s all she can do, there’s really no choice other than to defer to Sonny, especially considering she’s partly responsible for landing Rafael in this position in the first place. Rafael won’t see it like that, she can tell herself that as many times as she wants, but even thinking it now doesn’t bring her any comfort. 

“It could have been worse.” Sonny offers those words when he doesn’t have to, even though they don’t necessarily help because he’s absolutely right and knowing that is awful; but Liv forces a small smile and nods.

“It could have been,” she agrees. “Carisi, I’m—”

“Liv!” Amanda calls from the doorway, one foot still in the hall. She avoids Sonny’s eyes, avoids looking at Rafael entirely. However guilty Liv is feeling, Sonny’s sure Amanda must feel a hundred times worse. “We’re ready to take him to the station. You staying?”

“Go,” Sonny urges. “Book him. Maybe remind Amanda that Rafael won’t blame her for this, either.”

Liv sighs, studying the practiced neutrality in his expression. “What about you?”

Sonny is silent for a moment, busying himself by playing with the hair at the nape of Rafael’s neck. His boyfriend’s shoulders are tense, Sonny knows he’s been listening to every word. It says more than anything else could that Rafael has chosen not to speak for himself. 

“We’ll be in tomorrow. I might be late,” he says, avoiding the question. Liv won’t want to hear his answer, at least not the answer he’s carrying with him right now. Maybe he’ll feel differently tomorrow, when this shitshow of a night is over and Rafael isn’t cowering in his arms. 

He’s grateful Liv doesn’t fight him on that, either. “Don’t rush,” she says. “Take care of him.”

“Always.”

\--

It takes longer than Rafael would have liked to convince the paramedics—and Sonny, for that matter—he doesn’t need to be transported to the hospital. They make him sign a waiver, make Sonny promise to keep a close eye on any worsening symptoms. Sonny eagerly agrees, of course, he’d stayed close the entire time the paramedics had looked Rafael over.

Rafael’s voice is raspy and it hurts to swallow but the more time passes, the less his vision is clouded with white spots when he blinks. His neck is the worst of his injuries, even though he feels the effects of the belt whips more sharply. He’d forgotten about his cheek until one of the paramedics had cleared away the dried blood and he’d felt the sting of the cut. No stitches, he should expect a nasty bruise tomorrow, the EMTs all chuckle awkwardly when Rafael says that’s the least of his worries. He hadn’t been trying to be funny.

He falls asleep on the car ride home, his head resting against the window, and he doesn’t wake up until Sonny’s gently shaking him. For just an instant after opening his eyes, Rafael had panicked, seeing Ortiz’s face before blinking to find Sonny there instead. As Sonny helps him out of the car, Rafael absently wonders how long the trauma will last.

It’s a relief to discover he feels a little better once they walk through the door of their apartment. A part of him had been worried he wouldn’t find comfort here, in his own home, in the safe place he shares with the person he loves; but it’s warm in here, it’s always warm in here. He can heal here. 

Once they make it to their room, Rafael starts to shrug out of his shirt but hisses at the stretch of his back, curling his fist over the hem of the shirt. 

“Easy, easy,” Sonny murmurs, abandoning efforts to unbutton his own shirt to rush to Rafael’s side. “Let me do it.”

Rafael lets him, staring at the ground as Sonny gently peels the shirt up over his belly, his head, his arms. The welts on his back burn hot in protest, Rafael’s hands tremble as he lowers them back down to his sides, but he doesn’t make a sound. He waits, though he isn’t even sure for what until Sonny’s cupping his cheeks and brushing a thumb over the cut beneath his eye. 

“Rafael. You with me?”

Is he? Rafael isn’t sure. He’s here but he’s not, drifting with his feet on the ground, caught between the pain and the effort to overcome it.

He’d played a game with himself as a kid, he’d challenge himself to see how long he could keep from crying every time he’d been on the receiving end of his father’s fists or his belt. Crying would only earn him more of his father’s wrath but take what was coming to him and he’d often be given at least a little bit of mercy. That had been his reward. He tries to tell himself this had all been worth it, just like he’d thought it would be. A man is going to prison now because of Rafael’s sacrifice, that should make him feel something. 

Maybe tomorrow. It hurts too much to feel anything right now. 

“Raf?”

Sonny’s voice cracks and it brings Rafael back to the present moment. He blinks, a part of him revived because Sonny is upset. Sonny’s looking at him like that, with the weight of the world on his shoulders made up entirely of guilt that doesn’t belong to him, and Rafael would give anything to take it away. 

Maybe there could be a way.

Rafael licks his lips, his gaze flickering between Sonny’s worried face and Sonny’s belt. Ortiz’s had been Armani. Sonny’s, Rafael knows, had been found on sale at Nordstrom Rack. The difference only fuels him.

_“Is this how_ Sonny _gives it to you?”_

“I need you.” His voice is husky, still suffering from the wrap of the belt around his throat. His mouth is dry and Rafael’s tongue flicks over his lips again but it doesn’t help. Still, he says it again, more insistently this time. “I need you.”

Sonny frowns, searching Rafael’s eyes and setting his hands down on his boyfriend’s bare shoulders. “I’m not sure you’re thinking clearly, sweetheart, not after everything you went through tonight.”

“Please. Please, I just— I just want to feel you. The way you love me, you inside me, I need that right now. I need to not feel his hands on me anymore.” Rafael pulls Sonny in for a kiss, one hand traveling between them to paw at Sonny’s groin. 

“Hey, hold on, slow down.” Sonny gently grasps Rafael’s wrist, taking a small step back. When he looks back up, there are tears streaming down Rafael’s cheeks and for a split second, Sonny can’t remember how to breathe.

“I wish I hadn’t done it,” Rafael confesses through a ragged breath. He shakes free of Sonny’s hold on him, wandering unsteadily toward their bed. 

Sonny nearly recoils at the sight of the stark red stripes speckled with blood over unbroken skin, almost feels the sting of it on his own back as the _crack_ of the belt he’d heard sounds in his ear. He stands rooted in place helplessly, uselessly, watching Rafael lower himself to the edge of the mattress, his wet eyes wide and unfocused. 

“But that’s terrible, isn’t it? You knew, you tried to stop me, but I thought I was doing something good.”

That sets Sonny in motion, triggers him to start work on damage control, on doing everything in his power to make sure Rafael understands none of this had been his fault. It’ll be hard to accept that, he knows, especially with the scars of new memories that will follow them after tonight, but Rafael needs to hear it. 

“You did. You absolutely did something good.” Rafael eyes him skeptically, unconvinced. “He’s behind bars now, isn’t he? That’s because of you, because you put yourself on the line for the people who couldn’t.”

“I thought I could handle it.” Rafael wipes at his cheek to no avail, the tears keep coming. He’s not in hysterics, his shoulders don’t shake with sobs, but he can’t stop crying. He doesn’t remember the last time this had happened to him, it’s humiliating, even though nothing about the way Sonny is looking at him guides him toward the shame he’s found for himself. “I knew the risks, but I didn’t think-- I didn’t _think_.” 

He lifts a hand to his neck, his fingertips brushing over the ugly bruises that have grown darker against his skin. “You heard the things he said, right? God, those men he hurt before, I think about what he might have said to them and they didn’t have a safety net. They didn’t have anyone ready to save them. I know their fear but I don’t.”

It makes him feel like a fraud, like an imposter, like his choice to put himself in this situation strips him of the right to confront his pain. He’s not a victim, not a hero, just someone who’d thought himself above fear. It’s hubris; this is his fall. 

“Everything you are feeling right now is valid,” Sonny says, coming to sit behind him. He presses a hand against Rafael’s back, letting the warm settle between them before he rubs small circles up and down his boyfriend’s spine, avoiding where the skin is raw and tender. “Everything. Just because you had the facts going in doesn’t make what Ortiz did to you any less traumatic.”

Rafael doesn’t answer him, doesn’t look at him, but he doesn’t shy away from Sonny’s touch, either. That’s as good a sign as any, he supposes.

“I saw my dad,” he says suddenly. He hadn’t meant to volunteer that information but it slips out and Sonny’s fingers briefly stop against his back before moving again. 

“Did you?” Sonny asks cautiously. It’s always a touchy subject, Rafael really doesn’t talk about his father often and when he does, it’s never to discuss a fond memory. 

“He used to make me choose a belt. He was always watching _Wheel of Fortune_.”

The two statements don’t correlate to anyone but Rafael but Sonny lets out a quiet, distressed sigh. “Rafael. I don’t know what to say, sweetheart, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I couldn’t stop it.”

“It’s not your fault.” Rafael’s expression hardens and he grasps Sonny’s free hand, giving it a little shake. “It’s not your fault. You know that, don’t you?”

“It’s not yours, either.”

Right. Rafael loosens his grip on Sonny’s hand but doesn’t let go.

“Listen,” Sonny continues, “if you’re not up to going in tomorrow, I’ll call Liv. I can stay home with you, or we can make an appointment for you to talk to someone, or we can get that Chinese delivery and watch bad movies on Netflix all day, whatever you want.”

Rafael can’t help but laugh at that, at how earnest Sonny is being, how desperate Sonny is to do anything to make him feel better. “I love you so much,” he says. “I’m trying. I’m trying to be okay.”

“I love you, too. And it’s okay not to be okay. It’s been what, an hour? There is no timeframe for this sort of thing, Rafael, you know that. You don’t have to be on a schedule. No matter how long it takes, I’ll be right here.”

“I never doubted that.” Rafael takes a deep breath and realizes the tears have stopped. The adrenaline that’s been pumping through his veins since Ortiz’s hand had met his cheek starts to fade and Rafael is left feeling more exhausted than he has in a long, long time. He tries stifling a yawn but Sonny catches it because of course he does. 

“If you want to change out of the rest of those clothes, I’ll get the bed ready,” Sonny tells him, already getting to his feet. “Are you hungry? Thirsty? Cold? I can get one of the extra blankets, make you some tea. There are leftovers, too, I can heat them up.”

Rafael’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes but it’s affectionate. “I’m good. Just come to bed with me.”

“I can do that,” Sonny says. He starts to reach for the comforter but Rafael’s voice stops him short.

“Thank you.”

Sonny blinks, tilting his head. “For what?”

“Loving me,” Rafael tells him, almost sheepishly. “Staying with me.”

It renders him speechless for a moment but then Sonny’s rounding the bed so he can lean down to give his boyfriend a kiss. It’s near-chaste but it lingers, and he’s happy to hear Rafael’s contented sigh. “Trust me,” he says. “There’s never going to be anywhere else I’d rather be.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a shorter fill for a prompt that simply asked for angst but then I... kept going. Writing mojo has been harder to come by lately but I'm trying to keep at it. I hope you liked this one, I live for comments so if you're so inclined, please let me know what you thought!


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